Pride goes before ... a wall?

Dear Mrs Verma,

Do you remember going to the neighborhood kirana store as a child? You know, those godown looking places that housed all sorts of grains and flour and soaps and shampoos and sauces and biscuits (I was always partial to Glucose biscuits rather than Parle-G. Alas, I can no longer find the former *cue sad music*) and brooms and Rooh Afza (how very horrid was Rooh Afza, don't you agree? My dad used to drink it chilled with water in the summer, and I knew of some people who would gulp down that strange rose-like flavor with milk .. eww! And don't even get me started on that vile green concoction that Rooh Afza briefly brought to market - I think it was called Khas Khas or some such nonsense), and to my very fertile (infantile?) imagination, rats (probably quite true) and a dead body or two in the back (probably a stretch). And they always, always, had this very unique and very peculiar smell - probably a result of all of the things they housed, or perhaps because it looked like the place was never cleaned, or maybe because my dead-body theory actually held some weight.

Rodent infestation and nefarious acts notwithstanding, I used to so enjoy accompanying mother dearest (she sends her love, by the by) to our local kirana shop; and getting lost amongst those rusty storage racks, all of which looked ready to collapse under the weight of the goodies that they held up. I didn't even have expectations of mom buying me a Dairy Milk (the best chocolate ever made!), or a 5-Star (second best), or a packet of Gems (now called Smarties, apparently. Whatevs!), or some Kismi toffee bars, or even a pack of Parle Poppins (I still salivate at the thought of that sugary chemical mix), or, in later years, Rola Cola (Cola ka mazaa albela). For some reason, just the act of being in the store was fulfilling enough, and obviously affected my innocent and impressionable mind deeply, as I, even today, have a hard time leaving a grocery store (even one of those super-sized ones) without walking through all the aisles. As I explain to patidev, us not having a pet is absolutely no reason to not walk through the pet food aisle!

Now the reason I was reminded of the kirana store is because I've found the modern version of it here in Toronto! I haven't seen anything quite like it in all the time I have lived in different parts of the world (#humblebrag), and it might well be my favorite chain store in Canada. It's this place called Bulk Barn, and every time I step foot in it, I know how Aladdin (who, apparently, in the original tale, was Chinese! #ThanksDisney *eye roll*) must have felt when he entered the Cave of Wonders! I truly am like a kid in a (quite literal) candy (and grain and butter and soap and chips and nuts and drinks and snacks and oh I could go on and on) shop, and each visit to the BB in my neighborhood results in my finding something new and wonderful (still waiting for the lamp with the genie, though).

So a few days ago, I was in said Bulk Barn, and I stumbled upon this lovely glass jar, a few of which would have been perfect to house all my daals and such. What made it even more attractive was what it said on the lid. Here you so, see for yourself ...

That's right, Mrs V - this jar was Proudly Canadian. And given that I too, one day, aspire to be the same as this jar, I thought this piece of Canadian craftsmanship would fit very well in my little apartment.

But since I am a careful, albeit reluctant, housewife, I thought it best to check whether the glass was dishwasher safe, and I turned it over, when something else caught my eye and I ended up not buying it on account of slightly false advertising (or so I felt). See if you can spot it. I'll even give you a clue - if I did buy the jar, I'd name it Aladdin ...

Jar trickery aside, I would still give Bulk Barn an easy 4 belans (which, ironically, I'm unable to find there!).

Oh, before I forget, do send me some Koka Naka and Mango Byte candies the next time you find them at your own kirana store.

Yours,
GG